


The Color in Your Leaves

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Colors of Darkness series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Recreational Drug Use, Smangst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n gets tasked with caring for Castiel when he breaks his foot. Y/n has strong opinions about the hedonistic lifestyle the former Angel lives, strong opinions about how everyone in the Apocalypse has allowed themselves to fall. Can she help him remember who he used to be?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~There were two dozen women who went to the General and begged for the opportunity, the privilege, of caring for Castiel, but Dean Winchester was smart enough to see their desire to help as just plain desire. “Needs to focus on his health, not getting his dick wet. That’s why you’re gonna do it, Y/n.”“Because I didn’t volunteer?” you questioned.“Because you’re a lesbian. You won’t care about anything except keeping him off that bum foot ‘til it heals.”You were not a lesbian. You were very attracted to men. You were just the only woman in camp who turned down Dean’s advances so you got labeled. It wasn’t that Dean was unattractive, he was just an asshole. Most survivors were. Even the former Angel you were charged with helping used his aura of celestial wisdom to lure women into bed with him. It was disheartening. If this was what was left of humanity, then what was the point?
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/You, Endverse Castiel (Supernatural)/You
Series: Colors of Darkness series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078379
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	The Color in Your Leaves

**Story Warnings** : Dean is an asshole, derogatory terms for lesbian, a bit of exhibitionism on Cas’ part, **18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** , unprotected sex, fingering, angsty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had no qualifications for this. You weren’t a nurse or a doctor. You weren’t a caregiver of any kind. You were a weapons expert. You were volun-told by the boss man. General Winchester needed his right hand man back on his feet as soon as possible, which meant sending in someone to take care of him, keep him off of his feet until he healed.

There were two dozen women who went to the General and begged for the opportunity, the _privilege_ , of caring for Castiel, but Dean Winchester was smart enough to see their desire to help as just plain desire. “Needs to focus on his health, not getting his dick wet. That’s why you’re gonna do it, Y/n.”

“Because I didn’t volunteer?” you questioned.

“Because you’re a lesbian. You won’t care about anything except caring for him and keeping him off that bum foot ‘til it heals.”

You were not, in fact, a lesbian. You were very attracted to men. You were just the only woman in camp who turned down Dean’s advances so you got labeled. It wasn’t that Dean was unattractive, either, he was just an asshole. Most survivors were. Even the former Angel you were charged with helping used his aura of celestial wisdom to lure women into bed with him. It was disheartening. If this was what was left of humanity, then what was the point?

You knocked on the doorframe holding up the beads that were his front door. He went full hippie when he went full human. Drugs, women, indulgence, and 'why not?’ you overheard him tell Chuck once. “Why not load up on this stuff? The closest I’ll ever get to Heaven again is when I reach nirvana with the help of amphetamines and a good orgasm.”

An Angel.

You rolled your eyes as he called out, “Come in!” You stepped through the beads and sighed. “Bedroom!” he shouted, answering your query of his location before you could ask it.

You twisted the doorknob and pushed the door to the bedroom open, gasping as your eyes fell on him and Nadia, both very naked and midcoitus. “Oh my god!” You twirled on the balls of your feet and slammed the door. As soon as the shock wore off, you were pissed. He had no fucking decency! _She_ had no decency! The world might have ended but that wasn’t okay! You don’t call someone into your bedroom when you’re in the middle of- “Our fearless leader sent me here to play nursemaid and specifically said he doesn’t want you getting laid until you’re healed, Castiel, so Nadia needs to get her damn clothes on and get the fuck out of here. Now!” you shouted through the door.

You could hear the grumbling from her as she grabbed her clothes. Castiel’s voice was murmuring promises to her, but you couldn’t hear the words. Nadia glared at you as she stomped out of the room. “Bitch, don’t even,” you snapped before turning halfway toward the door. “Castiel, I’m coming in. Please respect that I have no desire to see your nakedness. Cover up, please.”

“I’m covered,” he called, an air of amusement to his words. You rolled your eyes as you walked in and started gathering dirty clothes from his floor, avoiding looking at him on the bed just in case. “You know, modesty is such an archaic ideal to hold onto, don’t you think?”

“Well, modesty might seem archaic to you, but choice is not and I _choose_ not to be indecent just because the world has ended. I choose not to sleep around the entire camp just because it’s easier to fuck everything away than it is to dwell on it. I think that’s being stronger than getting stoned out of my mind to ignore it like you do,” you snapped.

Blue eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, glaring slightly. You couldn’t help but notice the way that his chest hair showed through his open flannel. “You think you’re stronger than me because you choose to let everyone believe you’re a lesbian?”

A shock of indignation went through you as you rolled his clothes into a ball and tucked them under your arm. “I don’t see the point in correcting them. It’s not like I’m courting a relationship with any of these assholes around camp. You and Dean and Spencer and Tallman and all of the rest of the jerks around this place who think the surviving women are left to bring you pleasure and nothing more, what the hell would I want to deal with that for?” you growled. “Only downside is I get put on bullshit duties like this, taking care of a literal celestial being who couldn’t manage to land right after a second-story jump and broke his damn foot.”

You licked your lips and looked away from him. “I think I’m stronger than you because I didn’t lose myself as soon as the Earth went to Hell,” you answered his earlier question before looking away. “I hope you like oatmeal. I’m gonna go set these to soak and I’ll bring you your breakfast.” You stomped out of his bedroom, through the beads, and out to the laundry bucket outside. “Asshole.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent as little time as possible at Castiel’s cabin. You found other things to do, away from his prying blue eyes and the stench of cannabis and only went in to feed him, clean his cabin and bring in the basin of hot water for him to clean himself. After the fifth veiled request for you to help him bathe, you started dropping the bowl at the end of the bed and walking out without a word.

“How can you try to cling to what you used to be?” he asked suddenly as you handed him a bowl of beans and hot dogs. It was the first time he approached the subject without the judgment in his tone. “I’m curious.”

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your neck. “Lucifer, he…his whole thing is that we’re broken, right? Humans, we’re broken. We’re flawed and murderous and corrupted, that we were a waste of the Father’s time and effort. That He should have stopped after He created Earth or whatever. So, Lucifer took the Earth, set Hell upon us, and we all crumbled. We let fear and anger and hopelessness turn us into exactly what Lucifer said we were. We let him be right and that’s something I just can’t…I can’t let Lucifer be right about _me_.”

Castiel blinked a few times before looking away, a look akin to shame on his face. “You’re insightful.”

“Don’t think I don’t understand why it happened, though. I know why it’s enticing to be…selfish and chase pleasures of the flesh. I get the allure of…the baser things when you know that…but there was a time when…” You looked away and shook your head. “I’m just not okay with letting go of that.”

“That is…” Castiel sighed. “I feel I might be quite different if I’d had your perspective when I lost my connection to Heaven.”

“Far as I can tell, Castiel, I’m the _only_ one alive with this perspective. Don’t feel bad about it,” you said, before nodding at his bowl. “Eat up. I’ll be back for the bowl in a while.”

You ducked out of his room before he could continue the conversation. Something about having an honest conversation with the Angel was disarming. The wall you put up to keep yourself from getting too close to the degenerates in camp felt like it was cracking and you couldn’t deal with that.

“What happened to your family?” Castiel asked when you came to retrieve the bowl.

“Same thing that happened to lots of families,” you dismissed, your abs clenching, reacting to the question like a literal punch to the gut.

“Croats?” he asked, softly.

“No,” you said, looking down at the floor. “A group of large, angry, normal human beings who wanted the food we were more than willing to share.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll, uh, see you in-”

“How did you get away from the ‘large, angry, normal human beings’?” he asked, not relinquishing the bowl when you moved to take it.

You ran your tongue over your teeth and forced yourself to swallow down the feeling of rage that took you. “I was saved,” you answered.

“By?”

“By a man who…expected me to show my appreciation…said he only saved me because he couldn’t see wasting a body like mine.”

Castiel nodded knowingly as you started toward the door. “Lucifer was right about some humans, but…” You stopped at the door. “…you are an exception.”

“I wasn’t an exception when I put my last bullet through his skull,” you said, before walking out. You could get the bowl in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could almost feel the change in the atmosphere when you showed up the next morning with breakfast. The old smell of weed lingered, but you couldn’t smell anything new. He didn’t smoke his morning joint, which was weird. Smoking was always the first thing he did when he woke up.

He was sitting up in his bed. His hair was combed, his shirt actually buttoned. He looked almost like he was trying to clean up a bit. He smiled as you entered the room, handing his bowl of oatmeal to him and picking up the bowl from the night before where he put it on the floor.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

“Good morning, Castiel.”

You nodded to him as he picked up the oatmeal. He chuckled. “You know, you _can_ call me ‘Cas’. Everyone else does.”

“They do that because Dean has set an example. I follow my own lead. But if you want me to call you ‘Cas’, I’ll do that,” you offered, grabbing his shirt and pants from the day before off of the floor and hanging them over your arm.

“I’d like you to call me whatever you wish, Y/n. Profanities aside, of course,” he said, smiling a bit. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“I personally like ‘Castiel’. Nothing wrong with reminding you where you came from.” You shook your head and chuckled. “When I moved out of my parents’ place, my dad said ‘You can move on and grow big, but the ground you grew in will always put some of that color in your leaves.’ Sometimes, you gotta look at your leaves and remember the ground you grew in.”

He looked perplexed for a minute before nodding. “Heaven is the ground I grew in…and my name is the color of my leaves.” You nodded, smiling brightly. “Feathers might be more apt.”

You laughed. “Maybe, but then it wouldn’t be the thing my dad said. Enjoy your breakfast, Castiel. I’ll have your clothes folded when I get back.”

“I could help with that, if you bring them back first. I’m not doing much besides sitting here.”

You thought about it a minute before you nodded. “Sure,” you responded before walking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You almost hated the fact that Castiel was so charming once you got past the drugs and indulgences. What other man could make you laugh while you were folding a pile of clothes? Or make your cheeks get hot from a lingering look? What man could make your skin tingle with a brush of his hand?

“He almost healed?” Dean asked at the end of the first month as you exited the beads. No pleasantries, no greeting.

“He can stand on it, but he’s still got a limp when he walks. He needs another couple weeks,” you responded. You were guessing about the length of time, but it seemed like the right number.

“He good, though? Hasn’t been sneakin’ chicks, I know that much.”

“Because you’ve been paying so much attention to your best friend?” you snapped.

He pursed his lips a bit and his eyebrows came together a bit. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“We’ve talked a lot the last month that you’ve had me caring for him. I’ve seen pieces of the man, sorry _Angel_ , he used to be. You let a perfect celestial being become a…a junkie.”

His eyebrows jumped up indignantly. “I _let_ him? You think I _let_ Cas become-”

“I think if you had cared a little bit more about him, he wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t chase skirts like you do and-and chase highs. I found what I’m pretty sure is heroin under his bed and you let-”

“Cas is a big boy. He can take care of himself, Y/n.”

You nodded and smiled tightly. “Then he can take care of himself.”

“That’s not what I-” Dean growled.

“I know it’s not,” you interrupted. You shook your head, sadness filling your eyes as you looked upon the great and powerful Michael Sword. “But he obviously can’t, Dean. He obviously needed help adjusting and you were all he had and you did _let_ him fall to pleasures of the flesh and chemical indulgences. That’s on you.”

Dean looked at you with rage simmering in his eyes for a minute before he chuckled and bit into his bottom lip harsh enough that you thought he might start bleeding. “Here I was, thinkin’ you’re a carpetmuncher but you just don’t like me.” You looked away, your jaw ticking as he stepped closer, radiating the same sort of energy the first man you killed gave off. “Someone’s got a crush on our resident seraph, huh?”

“So what?”

“So now I know why Cas hasn’t had Tallman bringin’ him any of his weed crop the last couple weeks. Cas is tryin’ to do better for you…and I’m pretty sure the whole reason I gave you this duty was to avoid those kinda _entanglements_.” He took a step back and turned toward his own cabin. “You’re done. I’ll get someone else on Cas duty. Stay out of his cabin. Go find another place to make yourself useful.”

You didn’t even have a chance to argue it before he disappeared into his cabin.

You were livid. Not only because of the way Dean Winchester spoke to you but because you were taken off of the duty you lamented and because Dean knew you weren’t a lesbian as he assumed.

And Castiel was interested…enough that he wasn’t smoking as much as he used to. You refused to believe that you were the reason for that, but Dean seemed so certain.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing really mattered.

You went back to your cabin. It was good. It was a good thing that someone else would have to deal with Castiel. You would be able to put your walls back up. You’d be able to stifle that pesky emotion you were starting to feel for the junkie Angel. It was good.

So why did it hurt you so much?

You went back to work making bullets, cleaning and caring for the camp’s weapons. That was more your speed. Just you and the beautiful, intricate, deadly pieces of machinery.

You felt eyes on you more often as you walked through camp. You felt like people were judging you more now that the camp knew you weren’t a lesbian than they had when they thought you _were_ a lesbian. Probably because they knew that you were judging _them_ for their descent.

You were in your cabin working on a beautiful Colt .45 when a knock came to your door. No one ever came to see you. It just wasn’t done. You set the pistol on the table and stood, walking over to the door and opening it just a few inches. Castiel was on your little porch. His hair was clean and he was wearing clean clothes. He smiled a little when you opened the door a little more. “Castiel. D-do you need something?”

“Need? No. But I would _like_ to come inside,” he said with a smile. You bit your bottom lip and stepped out of the way. He nodded and took two steps past the threshold, allowing you to shut the door behind him. The smell of weed followed him into your small space. “I wasn’t able to thank you for helping me.”

“It was a bit abrupt, how Dean sent…” You cleared your throat. “Tallman in to take over, but that was fine. I…I’m better off…” You licked your lips and walked over to the table. “I’m good with guns.”

“You were doing pretty good with _me_ too, though, weren’t you?”

You swallowed and sat down in your creaky wooden chair, picking up your cleaning cloth. “Too good for our fearless leader’s liking.”

“Dean, he’s…he’s complicated.”

“Not really. He wants you drugged up and drowning in pussy because it’s easier for him to toss away his guilt if you’re enjoying the human condition.” You shrugged. “Or at least appearing to enjoy the human condition.”

“I’ve accused you of being insightful in the past, haven’t I?” he asked and you nodded, avoiding catching his eyes. You didn’t want your wall to crumble again. Not after spending two weeks building it back up again. “Well, I feel that you were very helpful and I-”

“You don’t need to thank me or any of that, Castiel. I was just doing what I was charged with doing. Just, um, stay safe next time you go out. Try not to jump out any windows.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “You seem to have completely tossed away every bit of goodwill you had toward me. Why?”

“Because I can’t like you. It’s that simple.” You set the cloth down on the table and started picking at a loose thread on the edge of it. “Not only is it a vulnerable position to put myself in, but the inkling of possibility that I might like you caused Dean to forbid me from entering your cabin. I can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out I disobeyed him and-”

“We’re not in my cabin, Y/n. You can be nice to me here.” You swallowed as he moved forward and cupped your face between both of his hands. “You’re allowed to like me. I know you have strong opinions about the 'junkie Angel’ but you don’t have to feel bad about liking me.”

“Yes, I do.” The warmth of his hands on your skin made your eyes flutter closed. “Because you are a man who gives your body without even-”

“You’re the only woman to receive my touch since Nadia, Y/n…and I would love for you to touch me.” He chuckled and you opened your eyes to look up into his. “It just isn’t as satisfying to touch myself to thoughts of you.”

Any other man saying those words would have pissed you off. It would have disgusted you. But from Castiel’s deep gravel, it made you feel weak…and letting go seemed like the best option. You stood, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He smiled against your lips and started pulling at your t-shirt. He tasted like weed but you didn’t mind, for some reason.

It didn’t take long for you to be tangled up on your bed, tongues rolling across each other as your hands roamed your bodies. When the fingers of his left hand found your slit, you gasped into his mouth and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s…I haven’t…it’s been…”

“I know. I’ll go slow, Y/n.” He kissed and nibbled at your shoulder as he started rubbing at your clit. “Your body is a gift. I’m humbled to receive it,” he mumbled into your skin.

“Fuck,” you whispered as his middle finger dipped into you. Too many years of celibacy made you oversensitive and touch starved. The whimper of his name was lost in his lips as you kissed him, pushing your hands into his hair and rolling your hips against his hand as he used that finger to explore your inner cavern.

“So wet. So tight. So beautiful,” he praised as you dropped your head back into your pillow and stared up into his sapphire eyes. You were breathless as he slowly ramped you up with just a single finger working inside of you.

“Oh my god!” you squealed as he found that spongy patch inside of you that you barely knew the location of. “Right there, Castiel! Right there! Fuck!”

“It’s going to be an honor to make you fall apart, Y/n. No other man here has had the privilege and you’re granting me the-”

“You’re not a man,” you said, words rushing out of you clenched around his finger, arching your back.

He let out a soft gasp and kissed you, slow and sweet as he brought you to the first orgasm given to you by someone else in almost five years.

“You’re the only one who still treats me like an Angel,” he whispered as he worked you through the orgasm.

“You have a cult of foll-” you started, but he shook his head.

“They idolize me but they don’t see me,” he whispered against your lips before leaning back and looking into your eyes. “To them, I’m nothing more than the…Apocalypse’s last b-list celebrity. To you, I’m still divine. To you…I’m still the color in my leaves.”

“You are, Castiel.”

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his as he covered your body with his own. The warmth of a body weighing you down, the feel of lips against yours, the way his fingertips dug into your ass as he maneuvered your hips into the position he needed you…it was everything you dreamed it would be when you were trying to keep him out of your mind and he invaded your sleep.

His breath against your ear as he grunted and moaned, his beard rubbing your skin, pushing you closer to the nirvana you heard him talking about so many months ago, it sent shivers down your spine. It was perfect. He was perfect. He was divine.

“I’m almost…almost there,” he grunted, sealing his lips over the bolt of your jaw and sucking lightly.

“Please. Angel, please. I wanna feel it.” Those words and the whiny, mewling, small quality of them, they barely sounded like you at all.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, his hands tightening their grip on your hips and his cock twitching as he started to cum. He took gasping breaths to calm himself as he pulled back to look at you. “You were every bit as wonderful as I expected, Y/n.”

Your cheeks were already warm from the sex but they turned burning hot from the way he was looking at you. “You…were amazing, Castiel.”

He ran his fingers almost lovingly across your cheek. “I mean it. I’ve had women with much more experience who were not even close to as good as you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking away from him. You didn’t want to be reminded of his many, many sexual partners.

He let out a gasp as he pulled out of you and dropped to your bed beside you. “You are spectacular,” he said, pulling you to lie against his chest. You sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, taking comfort in his warmth.

Which was gone when you woke up.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Dean’s voice cut through the haze of sleep to force you to wake with a jolt, immediately concerned with whether you were covered. “You’re the only one with beer right now and I needed a few for the party.”

“Party?” you asked, turning your head to look at him but keeping your body front-down on the bed. He was sitting in the chair in the corner of your room, a six pack of Coors in his lap.

“Cas’ girls wanted me to throw him a little 'Welcome back’ thing. I figure, it’s the least I can do after cockblockin’ 'em the last six weeks, ya know?”

Cas’ girls. Cas’ cultists. Cas’ harem. Cas’ far more experienced women.

“Right. Least you could do.” You swallowed and bit the inside of your cheek. “I don’t mind sharing, but am I at least invited?”

Dean sucked in a hissing breath and grimaced mockingly. “Ah, sorry, sweetheart. I _would_ invite you, but you’ve gotta hit a supply run with Spencer into Detroit.”

“Detroit? That’s a fucking red zone! And I’m not a scavenger!” you exclaimed, sitting up and wrapping your blanket around you.

“You are whatever I _say_ you are, Y/n, and I say you’re going to Detroit so you’re going.”

“Is this punishment for not fucking you, Dean?” you snapped.

“No, this is a job,” he answered, standing up, cradling the beer in the crook of his elbow. “And if I _were_ punishing you, it wouldn’t be because you didn’t wanna fuck me, Anne Heche, it’d be because you’re changing Cas. If I needed an Angel, I’d'a said yes to Michael. I need my right hand man and you’re fucking with that so _if_ I were punishing you, which I’m not, it’d be because you couldn’t mind your own business for six weeks and someone’s gotta teach you a lesson in Nunya.”

He glared down at you. “If you make it back, you’ll be on night guard duty at the gate and you’ll get to _hear_ Cas’ moonlight orgies. But you won’t get to come near him and you won’t get to influence him anymore, you hear me?” He smiled and lifted the arm with the beer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. You gotta get ready to roll out to Detroit…and Cas and I gotta fuck a half a dozen crazy hippie bitches. I expect you gone in thirty.”

You let out an indignant scoff as he walked out of your cabin. You hoped Cas would stop him, say something to save you, but as you stomped toward the gate twenty minutes later to join Spencer at his Jeep, you could hear music and laughter from Cas’ cabin. Cas and Dean’s laughter and giggling from his women. Too much to hope that you’d truly affected the Angel. Too much to hope that you were more than just a notch on his belt. Too much to hope there was enough green in his leaves to combat all the post-apocalyptic brown.

You didn’t say a word as Spencer turned on the Jeep and drove out the gates, driving you to your death.


End file.
